One Winter's Day
by alimison
Summary: A little girl goes for a walk in the countryside one day, and comes across a village she didn't expect to find. Please R&R!


ONE WINTER'S DAY

It was a crisp winter day when I decided to go for a long walk. Mum was, as usual, completely engrossed in her Woman's Weekly in front of the fire, and Dad had been on a business trip to London for a week, and would not be back until the next day. My big brother Jack was at a friend's house until tomorrow. There was little danger that Mum would notice my disappearance, as long as I left my tape of 'noises' – a handy little recording of doors slamming, music playing, books dropping and so on – playing over and over in my room. The real danger was my little sister Connie.

Connie, being seven, was at her bratty stage. Mum is very philosophical about these stages, but to me, Connie is just plain unbearable. It was certain that as soon as I tried to sneak out, Connie would raise the alarm, simply to spite me. Usually, I tend to try to set a good example for Connie, but this day was one of those days when all heady responsibility flies out the window and you just want to get _out, _to leave the house, accompanied by _no one. _Anyway, all my good behaviour was not bringing about any semblance of change in Connie, and I was sick of it. So I bribed her, feeling slightly guilty and promising myself I would never do it again. She demanded a lot. But I felt it was worth it, and it was with a new feeling of freedom – from the house and from rules – that I rushed down the cramped passageway to my bedroom to bundle myself up in all my winter clothes.

Mum never let me leave the house alone in the winter. It was so annoying. "You're only ten!" she'd say whenever I asked. "You might get lost!"

I would sulk and say things like, "I'm almost eleven!" or "I hate you!" Which, as you may imagine, did not make the situation any better.

I suppose she had her reasons – being in the middle of nowhere, there was a high likelihood of being lost if you were unfamiliar with the country. Of course, _I_ would be fine – I have an innate sense of direction, even if I only lived here in the winter. But Mum has always been very vague and unreasonable, and didn't bother listening to sense. At least, according to me.

I went out the back door as quietly as I could. Connie stood there smirking at me. "If you get lost, should I tell Mum where you went?"

I stuck my tongue out at her. "I won't get lost. I'm not a baby like you."

Connie stuck her tongue back. "Well, at least _I_ don't-"

I shut the door in as quiet a slam as possible.

And finally I was alone! For the first time in months, I was alone! I marched as purposefully as one can wearing sundry thick layers across powder-white fields, breathing deeply, absorbing the noiselessness and the cereal crunch of the snow underfoot and the way the ice hung sleekly on the trees and the way from time to time the sounds of a bird broke the suspended silence.

I reached some sort of road after a while, which I decided to follow. After all, I had no real desire to get lost, and following a road would always help one's sense of direction, however innate. Unfortunately I had chosen a difficult road to follow; there were the strangest crossroads imaginable, with at least seven different forks at each, and no signs, except for one which pointed to 'Hogsmeade'. I had never heard of such a place before, and I was inclined to head down the roads which seemed to go nowhere, being in a wandering sort of mood, but I decided to follow the sign anyway, as it would help me remember which way to return. The oddest thing was that I actually met somebody at one of these crossroads – a young and cheerful hiker – who waved at me, and asked where I was going. I pointed at the sign, and said "Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?" he said. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"See that sign?" I said. "I'm following it."

"What sign?" he said, looking alternately at me, and then vaguely at the fields around us. "I can't see any sign. Are you all right?"

"Can't you see it?" I asked, getting a little concerned. I walked over to it and patted it. "_Now_ you see it, don't you?"

He stared at me for a few moments. "Where are your parents?" he said kindly, coming up to me and kneeling concernedly in front of me. "Are you lost, sweetie? Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine!" I said. "I'm okay, really!"

"All right," he said, getting up and walking off in the opposite direction. "Bye bye!"

I shrugged my shoulders and kept walking. Perhaps he had been gazing at the snow too long and his vision had gone funny, you know – with blind spots and all those sorts of things your mother tells you when she tries to discourage you from going out in the snow.

Soon I could see a village in the distance. It came closer gradually. It was a pretty-looking sort of village, with wispy puffs of smoke curving out of the chimneys. I was starting to get more and more interested. This was the sort of place Mum and Dad would love to come. There would be some sort of café they could sit in with Connie, being boring to their heart's content, while Jack and I went and explored. Perhaps I could suggest it as an expedition.

It was when I actually reached the main street, however, that I had the biggest surprise of my life. The street was full of people – lots of young people – all wearing _robes_ of some sort. The shops had names like Zonko'sand Honeyduke's,and I was sure I saw a pub called the Three BroomsticksSome of the people wandering around held polished sticks that looked like the wands you read about in fairy tales. The older people looked even odder than the young ones – I saw one man with an excessively long, white beard, wearing ostentatious but magnificent turquoise robes, a pointed hat, and half-moon glasses, strolling about with some monstrously large, bushy-bearded man not far away from where I was. I stood stock still, my mouth open, staring at everything that was going on. _What was this?_ My heart was beating faster than it ever had. If I had thought about it with only my head, I would have decided it was only a dress-up or something, but there was a weird feeling in the air that was different to anything that I'd ever experienced. At the same time, I felt a desire to go and join all the people milling about – I felt some sort of identity with them all. It's the hardest thing to describe; I only know that my mind was racing with incomprehensible thoughts and my body was involuntarily paralysed.

I suddenly noticed that the magnificent man I mentioned before had stopped walking. He was watching me over his half-moon glasses with a small smile. It felt as if he knew everything about me. I was too scared to do anything so I simply stared back, and he started to walk towards me. He bent down, as I was a bit of a midget back then, and said, "Good afternoon."

I tried to say something back, but I think I only croaked, although his demeanour was, in fact, a little reassuring.

"Have you been exploring?"

I didn't make any noise or movement, but he knew.

"What is your name?"

All of a sudden my stupor dropped away and I started babbling. "My name's Rachel Jones and I live a few miles away and I just came out for a walk and I followed the signs and I came here and I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to and I'll go back now if you like!"

He looked at me still, smiling a little more. "No one who comes to Hogsmeade is 'not supposed to'." He paused. "Rachel, it was, wasn't it?" He held out his hand.

I shook it tentatively. "Yes, sir."

"My name is Professor Dumbledore. I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, over that way." He pointed vaguely behind him while I tried to figure out whether he was joking or not. "How old are you, Rachel?"

"T-ten."

"Oh," he said, "nearly eleven, then." We both smiled, despite the fact that my heart was starting to do aerobics over the fact that he had just said he was the headmaster of a school of _magic_ and that he didn't seem to be joking. "I suppose you will be starting a new school next year then?"

"Yes."

"Don't rule mine out," he said. "Don't tell your parents yet – you'll get a letter in the summer. You must have magic in you, Rachel, or you wouldn't have come to Hogsmeade."

It was with a smug smile that I retired to my bedroom after I had the mother of a telling-off from my enraged parent, back at home. Connie couldn't quite understand it. She taunted me and stuck her tongue out, but I only grinned at her. I was too excited to care about anything now.


End file.
